


a bouquet

by localswordlesbian



Series: sweet tooth for you [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Comfort, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, Flowers, Fluff, Happy, Happy Ending, Language of Flowers, M/M, No beta we kayak like Tim, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, of course i had to write jm valentines fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localswordlesbian/pseuds/localswordlesbian
Summary: Jon insists he doesn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day, but Martin's romantic side can't help it
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: sweet tooth for you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120133
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	a bouquet

“Do you know what day it is?”

Martin blinked at Jon, who was leaning over the counter with a newspaper in his hand and a mug of tea to his lips. “Is that a trick question or something?”

Jon smiled, letting out a small laugh at Martin’s confused expression. “Not exactly. It’s February fourteenth.”

Martin paused for a moment before it dawned on him. “Oh, shit!”

Jon laughed, putting the newspaper down and taking another sip of his tea. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

Martin snorted before making his way over to the counter, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Christ, I can’t believe we forgot again.”

Jon hummed into his shoulder. “I suppose a capitalist holiday really can’t be that important, after all.”

Martin barked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay, I know it’s just a dumb holiday meant to get money for chocolate or whatever. But there is something romantic about it, isn’t there?”

“We could find something romantic about chocolate that’s on sale tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but that’s not today, is it?”

“No, today’s the full price chocolate.”

Martin groaned while Jon laughed. “You’re an arse.”

“Yes.”

Martin sighed. “Well, fine. We don’t have to do anything for Valentine’s Day.”

Jon hummed. “We can if you want. I was just kidding. Mostly.”

“You’re probably right, makes more sense to do something tomorrow.”

Jon seemed to contemplate this. “If you’re sure.” He held Martin for a second more before pulling away. “Though we are nearly out of tea. Would you mind going out and getting some?”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Music pumped through Martin’s headphones as he walked down the street toward the supermarket, bundled up in a scarf and coat against the biting February chill. The London streets were blanketed by a thin layer of snow as a dusting fell from the sky and blanketed everything in a pure, white sheet. Martin felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the soft romanticism of it all – Jon teased him occasionally for these fairy-tale moments when Martin pointed them out, though he had a sneaking suspicion that Jon loved them just as much as he did.

By the time he reached the supermarket, his face was numb from the cold and he struggled to get his gloves off as he pushed his cart around the blindingly bright aisles, looking through the tea selection. There wasn’t much in terms of variety, so Martin just grabbed a couple of boxes of chamomile and earl grey to hold them over until the store got more in stock. He contemplated visiting the little shop further into downtown, the one that always had the interesting teas that reminded him of the tiny shop in Scotland, but it was too far a walk for a day this cold.

As he grabbed a few more groceries they might need, Martin’s eyes were drawn to the display of chocolates and gifts at the front of the store. It was violently pink, with red and white decorations forming hearts and swirls all over the tables and shelves that displayed all the Valentine’s merchandise. He knew that Jon was right, that Valentine’s Day was just a money grab and that it would be much smarter to wait until tomorrow, when the chocolate was all half price. They’d get a box of it and plant themselves in front of the TV, enjoying each other's company and cracking jokes about how they’d played the system.

Martin smiled at the thought, and he knew they’d have a great time, but it just didn’t feel the same. His mother had always said his sentimental side would be his downfall, and that it made him weak and stupid. He should just throw away his emotions and use his head.

His mother had told him a lot of things that weren’t true.

Martin shook his head and turned away from the display, meaning to head toward the registers to pay for his groceries when something else caught his eye. A florist booth, set up on one side of the cash registers, where a woman with lilac hair was working putting together an arrangement for a young man who looked somewhere in his twenties. Martin watched from the side as she tied up the bouquet in a shiny pink wrapping, smiling as she handed it to him.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Martin walked up to the counter, and the woman looked up as he approached, giving him a friendly smile. She seemed to genuinely radiate joy, her hair flowing around her shoulders as she beamed at him. “Hello!” she greeted him. “I like the hair.” She gestured to his still-pink curls.

Martin returned her smile, feeling as though her happiness was contagious. “Oh, Thank you. I, uh, I’d like a bouquet, please.”

The woman nodded. “Of course. What kind of bouquet would you like?”

Martin’s mind drew a blank – he knew next to nothing about flowers. “I’m not really sure,” he confessed. “Sort of came up here on a whim, to be honest.”

“That’s alright,” the woman assured him. “I’m assuming it’s for a special someone, considering it’s Valentine’s Day and all.”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, for my, uh, for my boyfriend.” It still felt surreal, sometimes, to refer to Jon as his boyfriend.

The woman brightened. “Perfect! So we’ve got red roses, obviously, for love. Let me see, oh! We have white Camellias, and if flowers could speak they would say, ‘you’re adorable!’”

Martin snorted. “I think he might just kill me if I put those in there.”

The woman gave him a knowing look. “So shall I add them in?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

She laughed. “Okay, we also have white roses, which symbolize worthiness and being worthy of someone’s love.”

Martin narrowed his eyes. “Okay, are you reading my mind or something?”

The woman winked. “A lady never tells.” She plucked a few and placed them in the steadily growing bouquet. “Now, lastly, verbena. Romance and sweet memories, but also healing.” At Martin’s nod, the woman got more of that shiny pink wrapping and bundled up the bouquet, finishing it off with a large white ribbon tied in a bow. She handed it over to him with that same radiant smile.

Martin was still wondering whether that woman had actually been a mind reader as he checked out his groceries and paid for them and the flowers. Or perhaps he was just that easy to read.

Making his way back into the flat, the first thing he noticed was the smell of cooking. Peeking around the corner, careful so the wrapping on the bouquet didn’t rustle too much, he saw Jon carefully setting a dish on the table, a dish that was clearly steaming with something freshly made. Martin’s heart swelled in his chest as he watched Jon adjust the utensils on the table, set out for two, before standing back and admiring his handiwork.  _ The cheeky bastard, _ Martin thought affectionately.

He moved into the kitchen, making his presence known. Jon turned to see him, his smile genuine and nervous, before his mouth fell open slightly at the sight of the flowers in Martin’s arms. “I’m home.”

Jon let out a laugh. “And here I was thinking I’d be the one surprising you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m plenty surprised,” Martin assured him, setting down the other groceries and holding the bouquet out to Jon. “And here I was thinking we’d actually run out of tea.”

“We had!” Jon exclaimed indignantly, and Martin snorted. “It was a good excuse. What’s your excuse for this?” Jon gestured to the bouquet, though his voice gave away how pleased he really was, and Martin’s grin widened.

“You said no chocolate, but nothing about flowers.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling widely. “Good to know to be more specific next time.”

“Really?”

“No.”

They both laughed, and Jon reached up and took the flowers from Martin’s hands. “Thank you, Martin. Truly, I– I’m not really sure what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. You know that.”

Jon nodded, eyes glued to the flowers. “You know, some say that different flowers have different meanings. Symbolic ones and all that. I’d assume the poet would know that,” Jon said with a sly grin.

Martin rolled his eyes. “As a matter of fact, they do. The lady at the florist booth was very adamant about that. The white Camellias mean ‘you’re adorable,’ apparently.”

Jon glared at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. “And you say I’m the arse.”

Martin barked a laugh as Jon set down the bouquet and wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck. Martin wrapped his own arms around Jon’s waist, feeling the laughter warming his chest and happiness filling his lungs as Jon stood on his tiptoes to press his lips to Martin’s.

They stood there in the kitchen, arms around each other, Jon’s lips warm and inviting against Martin’s as they kissed. When they broke apart, Martin leaned his forehead against Jon’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But you already know that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just like saying it.”

“Me too.”

It made it feel more real, Martin thought. Hearing it solidified it in his mind, made it harder for that remaining lonely part of his brain to convince him that it was all fake, all made up in his head.

Jon probably felt the same.

“I know about the red roses,” Jon mused. “What about the white ones, though?”

“Oh, well the lady said those were for ‘worthiness of love.’”

Jon let out a breath, close enough that Martin could feel it on his face. “Oh, Martin.”

“I know, I know. It just– felt appropriate, you know?”

Jon nodded, his fingers twisting a strand of Martin’s hair. “Yes, I suppose I do. I suppose it’s true for us both.” Martin said nothing, simply holding him, the two standing in their kitchen, holding each other simply the way they did, the way they knew how to. Martin didn’t explain the flower for healing, not yet. Those were conversations for later.

Once they pulled away, Martin gestured to the table. “So, what’s all this?”

Jon suddenly looked shy. “I was looking through the drawers the other day, and I found this recipe that I didn’t recognize. It was under one of your old poetry collection books, so I figured it was yours. It was dated as being from 1990, and I remembered you mentioning a dish your mother used to cook, before your father left, and… you’d mentioned that she hadn’t cooked it since. So I thought I’d give it a try. I used to cook with my grandmother a lot, so it was surprisingly simple, and– Martin, are you okay?”

Martin hadn’t even noticed the tears that had begun to slip from his eyes and down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. Jon reached up to wipe them away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – did I overstep? I should have asked, I–”

“No, no, Jon, it’s perfect,” Martin insisted, grabbing Jon’s hands in his and squeezing them tightly. Jon looked concerned, and Martin felt his love for him swell in his chest. “I’m sorry, I guess it’s just a bit overwhelming. Like you said, it’s been so long, but it’s– I couldn’t imagine a more perfect surprise.”

Jon sighed in relief. “I’m glad.” Reaching up, he offered Martin another gentle kiss, one which Martin gladly accepted.

The dish was good, better than good. Martin couldn’t remember if it tasted the same as it had when he was a kid, but he couldn’t care less. The flowers sat in a vase filled with water, their bright colours illuminating the flat while the two of them enjoyed each other’s company.

“You know, for someone who claims Valentine’s Day is just a capitalist money grab, this is quite the gesture.”

Jon snorted. “Well, it’s better than any old box of chocolates.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes, and Martin laughed.

“Yeah, it sure is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to write something cute for Valentine's Day! The end of TMA draws near and I will distract myself with cute fluff  
> Thank you to everyone who's commented on these fics!! It makes my day to read all your comments :)  
> Also for the flower stuff it all comes from like two websites so if anyone's super into the symbolism of flowers and sees I got something wrong, no you didn't >:)


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